More Oral After the Exam Ch. 03

An instant later I was cumming. Arcing into the air, jizz splattered all over Shannon's face.

Some landed in her mouth. Some hit her on the chin. The rest crisscrossed her breasts, shoulders, and neck like a Pollack painting.

Positioned behind Shannon, Jessica jammed her fingers into her roommate's now empty cunt. "Do it Shan!" she screamed. "Right there baby girl! Bounce up on it while he blows his load on your face!"

Jessica was driven. Her arm was like a piston, finger fucking the shit out of her best friend's cunt. She stroked intently, putting the cherry on top of Shannon's orgasm. Shannon howled, enjoying the fresh intrusion. Still kneeling between my legs, Shannon offered a nice view of her jiggling breasts dripping with my spunk.

Under Jessica's ministrations, Shannon could only give in. I could see Shannon tense, closing her eyes, biting her lip, hands on her hips to steady herself. The moment of release washed across her face. The slut's shoulders slumped, a massive release of tension in her muscles. She crumpled forward. Her hands coming to rest on my thighs, heels touching her ass, back rounded and moving with the ragged panting of her breath.

Still heaving, Shannon exclaimed in disbelief, "Holy fuck! Unbelievable! Your shit's everywhere. It's absolutely everywhere." She looked up at me and smiled devilishly. The girl was telling the truth. "It hit me on the forehead, right? I think I can feel it. Damn."

I laughed. "Yeah, it did. I think it got in your hair too. Sorry about that."

"No problems, Professor. I've sucked enough dicks to know that there is no controlling them. When one's about to go off, I just close my eyes and expect to get blasted with man chowder."

"Well, you sure got messy, Shan," Jessica chimed in. "That's a lot of spunk."

"Yum," Shannon said, licking her lips. Then she changed topics. "Ummm Jessica, by the way... How do I say this? You've gotten good. I mean really good. Where'd you learn to do that trick with your fingers? You just stuck them in and I started cumming buckets."

Jessica looked pleased with herself. She remained quiet, but pantomimed dusting off her shoulders.

Shannon rolled her eyes but continued, "Girl, you're too much. At first I thought I was going to pee, but then... Wow! Whatever you did was amazing. I don't know how many times you've fingered me, but you've never hit me like that before. Did you find my G spot?"

Jessica nodded. "I think so. I read a few books over the winter break. I thought I needed to work on my skills."

"You got all of that from, like, reading? I didn't know you were such a good student." Shannon inquired, still a little breathlessly.

"Well the theory helped and there was a girl at home I got to practice on a few times. She seemed to like it ok," Jessica replied.

"I'm betting she liked it more than just ok," I added. "That was amazing. Jessica, you had Shannon bouncing off the walls. Who was the other girl?"

Jessica blushed, "No one special."

"I didn't know you had any girls back home on the farm."

"One or two to keep me warm on a winter's night. A girl can get lonely with only corn to keep her company. Maybe I'll tell you about her later,"

Jessica supplied dismissively, "Right now though, you two sex fiends might want to get cleaned up. Jizz is everywhere and you both smell like pussy. I can stand guard while you guys make a break for the shower."

"What about you?" I asked.

"I'll get mine afterwards."

Thinking it through, I nodded. It was getting late and I was pretty sweaty.

Meanwhile Shannon supplied, "Thanks Jessica," before giving her roommate a hug. "But be warned. I'll need another go around in the showers. I fucked him just a couple of minutes ago, but I still want him to do me again. There's nothing like being banged from behind in the shower."

"Sure, but that might be a little hard at the moment," I said.

"You said hard," Jessica cut in, chuckling. "And why, Professor, is that? Can't get it up for a fourth time? Have we tuckered you and the poor guy between your legs all out? Is your dickie-wickie abused? Too much tight, coed pussy?"

"Not exactly," I smirked. "I can't go anywhere until one of you ladies unties me."

*****

So I fucked Shannon in the shower. The scene started innocently enough with soap and shampoo. We scrubbed away getting squeaky clean, but the sudsy stuff didn't last very long. Shannon was a girl with needs. While I knew that I wouldn't have any trouble performing, I did need some assistance. So the horny slut dropped to her knees and slurped my dick into her mouth. This was not a languishing tease. No, this was a BJ with a purpose. And damn she was good. Fuck, that girl was probably a vacuum cleaner in a previous life! Once she gave me enough head that I was plenty hard, I pulled her up and bent her over at the waist. From that position I fulfilled Shannon's request: she could be banged as fast and as hard as she liked. We did some nasty fucking under the spray of the shower (bonus: a girl's dormitory never runs out of hot water!) while I held her hair like a leash. I slapped Shannon's slick ass while pumping away energetically at her hungry cunt. The teenage tart howled with delight. After several minutes of hardcore fucking, I reached around her hips and found her tiny, hard clit. Pressing on her sensitive nub with my middle and ring fingers I rubbed her raw nerve in a circular motion while
still applying some pressure. When her moaning and breathing sped up and she was ready to fly over the edge, I quickly changed the rub to back and forth over her clit. This is how I brought the slut to a screaming climax. I continued to pump furiously through her pussy spasms and followed that "O" with an encore, and an explosion of my own all over her ass.

After rinsing off one more time, Shannon and I stepped out of the shower. We dried ourselves off, then wrapped our bodies in two fluffy pink towels. In the process, I took a golden opportunity to goose Shannon's delectable rear end. She jumped and squealed, before flashing me a mischievous smile. Yeah, she enjoyed it.

The hallway was clear, so Jessica led Shannon and I back to the room. I got dressed, despite the girls' pleas to spend the night. Doing so would be impossible. I was already running too much of a risk by visiting the dorm. While there probably wasn't a defined penalty for cavorting with women who used to be my students, the situation would definitely not look good.

And the ladies were certainly not quiet. Without a doubt others heard us fucking ourselves silly. Shannon and Jessica had howled, moaned, and screamed, imploring me to fuck them harder and harder. Add Ellie into the mix (the girl who saw my dick in the hall) and it would be best to get out of the dorm now, under the black of the night.

So I kissed each of the women goodbye (slipping Jessica a little extra tongue) and drove home.

My bed was calling me. I turned off the lights, crawled under the covers, and said goodnight to a long and sexually satisfying day.

*****

I could already tell that Tuesdays this semester were going to be hell. I had three classes, back to back with a brief period for lunch in between. The first two were each an hour and fifteen minutes long and the third was a full three-hour marathon. While I loved the idea of taking all of my classes on the same day, in practice the schedule would be very challenging. Staying alert for that much time would be difficult. Sometimes the mind tends to wander.

Of course my advisor, Professor Jen Endicott, taught the third class. There were seven people in the seminar (including my friend Sarah) on postmodern feminist thought. Normally I would have been excited to take one of Jen's classes. They were always lively and provocative.

Unfortunately, Jen wasn't happy with me or my extra-curricular activities.

Last semester Jen and I had fucked. Quite simply it was fantastic. I had found her masturbating in her office; one thing led to another, and soon I was railing her doggy style on the floor. That woman gave one hell of a blowjob (or maybe skull fuck would be more accurate?). Before getting down and dirty however, we had agreed that our sex life wouldn't impact our professional, working relationship. She would continue to be my dissertation advisor; I would take her classes. Things would always be civil and cordial no matter how our carnal interactions went.

I should have known that this compact was doomed to failure; banging one's professor always has consequences.

A few weeks later Jen later caught me screwing Jessica (and a Latina chick from Taco Bell) in the library. Since then we hadn't really talked. Yesterday she had stopped by my office.

The conversation soon devolved into a screaming match. Jen left in a huff and I was fuming. At best, the situation between us was awkward. At worst, some sort of meltdown was in our future.

I wasn't sure yet which way this relationship would go. For now I wished that we had a little more time and space between us. But unfortunately it was time to go to class – her class.

I plopped my stuff down at a table and took a seat. Jen was nowhere to be seen when I arrived a couple of minutes early. To be honest I was relieved. At least this way we would not have to make uncomfortable chit-chat.

Sarah, who came in right behind me, took the seat next to me. In addition to being sex partners, Sarah was probably my best friend.

We shared everything, including Jessica. As always, Sarah's fantastic tits struck me. This time they were encased in a tight, maroon sweater. The twin mounds of flesh bulged oh so deliciously.

Sarah openly scoffed when she saw that my eyes had honed in on her breasts. She pulled out a notebook and said, "Hey dude, remember this is a class on feminist theory. Your gaze is denying me agency."

I looked up, confused, before shaking my head as if to wake myself up. And then I grinned. "My bad," I apologized.

"No foul, dude. It happens," Sarah shrugged.

With those knockers, I guess it probably did.

"Ready for another semester?" she asked.

"Not really, but that doesn't matter. This semester is beginning whether I like it or not."

"True," Sarah said, tapping her pen against the table. "My schedule is going to be nasty. I have a new course that I'm prepping for. That'll take some time. I have no idea what I am doing. I don't know anything about journalistic writing. I've never worked at a freakin' newspaper. I just asked for the class for the extra cash. I never dreamed that the department would actually give it to me."

"You asked and you received. The chair is desperate. There's not enough TA's this semester."

"Oh that makes me feel good. Yup, there's Sarah – the bottom of the barrel. Thanks for the vote of confidence dude, but aren't we all? Desperate," Sarah grinned at her obvious sexual reference before she moved on, "I swear, I think I'll be only one day ahead of the students all semester long."

"But if they can't tell..."

"Exactly, mon frere. So whatever... I'm done stressing. How about you? Been up to anything interesting?"

"The usual."

Sarah pushed a lock of brown hair behind her ear and smirked. "Really?"

I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled. I didn't need to say anything. Besides, Sarah already knew all of my secrets.

Sarah gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her voice dropped to a whisper, "Damn, you've been busy already? It's only the second day of the semester. You sly, dirty dog! So you've met up with the old gang, huh?"

"Ummm yeah," I stuttered. I was surprised that Sarah was being this blatant. Of course no one was paying us any mind. The rest of the class was too busy catching up on their own business.

"That didn't take very long, dude. What happened?"

I looked around to make sure our classmates weren't eavesdropping. They weren't. "Jessica stopped by the office yesterday. I'm surprised Cindy didn't tell you anything about it."

"I haven't seen her yet. We don't share any classes this semester."

"Oh, ok. Jessica and I took care of a couple of things and later on I went over to her place. She and Shannon had quite the evening planned."

"Both of them?"

"Yup."

"Nice."

"We did some... uh... studying."

"Studying, huh?"

"Sure," I replied, trying my best to maintain a straight face. I failed. Sarah, of course, knew better anyway.

Sarah was about to quip something back at me when the door swung open with a clatter. Enter Professor Jen Endicott.

Oh, this was not going to be good.

The air turned to ice when Jen entered the classroom. She was dressed in a black, business pantsuit, with a matching grey, silk blouse. Her short, spiky hair seemed to crackle with tension. She crossed the open space, quickly moving behind the podium. From that position Jen surveyed us. All conversation fell away under her withering stare. Jen dropped her bag onto the front table with a dull "thunk." There were no "hi's" or "How are you's?" Instead, she immediately started pulling several archaic volumes from her bag's core.

Over the last couple of years I had come to know Jen quite well. Before we'd become intimate, she and I worked together very closely. In all that time, I'd never seen her look so sharp and severe. This type of professorial power display did not match the woman I knew.

An Endicott classroom was typically a joyful place, bursting with smiling, happy students.

Typically Jen would sit legs dangling on a table in front of the classroom. Her style was collaborative, since a Socratic dialog was her preferred teaching method. There was no need for her to put on airs; she clearly had an easy command of the course material, Jen knew that she was the smartest and best read person in the room. Besides if a student could provide a new and relevant interpretation of an old text, well good for them, everybody would learn and improve together.

But not today.

Jen began to lecture, "Let's just get started. As I am sure all of you are aware, 'Feminism' is one of the most controversial words in the English lexicon. Unfortunately much of the baggage surrounding this word boils down to a calculated and vicious demonization of feminism. When unpacking meaning, it is easy to get sidetracked in that base chicanery. All of us, female and male alike, have understandings of what it means to be a feminist. These notions are primary to our individual construction of self: femininity and masculinity. Consequentially it is a noble endeavor to argue for our values. But we should set aside this task for now. It can be heralded later. Instead of flailing about in our personal pejorative understandings, let's ground ourselves in serious academic scholarship."

"Naturally, a word like feminism is not easy. Too many breeds and brands of feminism exist to hone in on a single definition. There are as many reads of feminism as there are feminists (and probably far more). Rather than spinning our wheels with specifics, we should delve deeper to something more rudimentary. Perhaps with a genesis we can develop a workable vocabulary system. Thus, we need to first inquire, 'Why feminism?'"

Jen opened a book to a marked passage and traced it with her finger. She continued, "Maybe Andrea Dworkin provides us with an acceptable way in to a discussion of feminist theory. She pens, 'All personal, psychological, social, and institutionalized domination on this earth can be traced back to its source: the phallic identities of men."

Dworkin? Really? That's where we start? I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet. This was not going to be good.

Jen flipped a few pages and looked directly at me. She squinted. Her clear blue eyes bore down into mine as she spoke, "Dworkin then goes on to write elsewhere, 'Men have defined the parameters of every subject. All feminist arguments, however radical in intent or consequence, are with or against assertions or premises implicit in the male system.' Put another way, feminism is a reaction to a male patriarchy. It is a response to systemic male dominance, violence, and injustice that has been perpetuated on women since time in memoriam. And those mechanisms of power and repression are still very much alive today. With this understanding, we can begin. Here's a copy of the course syllabus..."

I sunk down in my chair and shrugged helplessly. This class was going to suck.

*****

Three hours later I emerged as if from a battlefield. Bruised and battered, I could feel the scars of a thousand stinging cuts. Jen was good, really, really good. Somehow she had managed to focus the blame for thousands of years of patriarchal oppression squarely onto my shoulders.

And what could I do? Nothing. I had to take it; I couldn't complain. This was a course on feminist theory, and everything she said was valid and quotable scholarship. She never gave an indication to anyone else that I was her target. There were no overt signals or indicators; Jen was too smart for that. But I knew. I just fucking knew.

As soon as class was over I grabbed my books and sprinted from the room. Emotions were bubbling inside of me. Did I want to scream and shake my fist? Or was I ready to collapse and cry? I didn't know what would happen if I uncorked the bottle. I had to go elsewhere; I had to find a release.

******

So I fled to the gym.

Nothing clears my head like working out. I find that my problems flutter off under the strain of exercise. Sometimes while I am toiling away all of the pieces of my life magically come together; a clear picture remains where there once was a puzzle. Maybe I just get high off the endorphins? Or perhaps it is the necessity of focusing on something so demandingly physical? I don't know.

That evening I began on the rowing machine. I started with a brisk pace and then upped the resistance. One cycle became two. My muscles were burning. Rather than a round three on the erg, I decided to move on to the weights. At first I felt like a bad ass, but after a few minutes I got bored. Pumping iron never really excited me. I needed to work out my frustration in another way.

The school's gym has an indoor track. It's a giant loop that looks down over the basketball courts. I almost always end my workouts there.

By running I can push myself as long and as hard as I like. The panting of my own breath is soothing. The ache in my muscles numbs me to all mental frustrations.

Tonight the track was empty. Good. I'd rather be alone. I walked one lap just to warm up. Then I broke into a run. My hamstrings were already aching from the treadmill, but I didn't care. Each lap was an 1/8 of a mile, I'll just count them out.

Two miles later she passed me: a tall, thin brunette with a bobbing ponytail. She gave me a spectacular rear view that quickly blurred off in the distance. I was going at a decent clip, but this woman was lightning. Her legs churned, pumping against the ground: her arms were pistons, flying through the air.

I shook my head and kept on running. I upped my pace, trying to keep up with the delectable ass bobbing along in front of me. A second wind hit me and for a brief span I was able to keep up behind her. The vision of her tight ass was a powerful incentive.

She was fresh though and in better shape. This lady was an athlete, no doubt about it. I gave into my inevitable exhaustion and fell back.

Sweat trickled into my eyes, blurring my vision. The shirt I was wearing was soaked clean through. I was finished. Kaput. Stick a fork in me. Although this runner was scrumptious eye candy, my focus was gone.

The brunette hottie sped further and further away. She turned the corner and then she was clear across from me on the other side of the gym. I kept plodding away and she fell from sight.

Soon I could hear her footfalls. The brunette was gaining on me. I felt a finger tap me on the shoulder. I turned my head, but no one was there. I felt the tap a second time. Again I was tricked. I heard a giggle and then she brushed past. The woman had completely lapped me.